I’ve grown up with nudity all of my life and have considered myself to be a naturist for the best part of my cognitive years. Spending a large part of my youth in mainland Europe, I was exposed to a more liberal and less prudish approach to nudity than I have experienced in the UK. When I was old enough to do so, I joined the Central Council for British Naturism (CCBN) and its affiliated group Young British Naturists or YBN. I had always been told how welcoming and kind the naturist community was, so was excited to start attending the local monthly swim.

Unfortunately, no other members of the YBN came to my local swim, and as a single male, the more elderly couples viewed me with scepticism and cynicism; however, after we had conversed over a quick steam many had began to accept me. I went as often as I could so that I would become a familiar face, and while more and more people started to recognise and engage with me, due to the significant age difference, there was very little that I had in common with them other than naturism and never felt truly welcome there.

I enjoyed the freedom that being naked afforded me. It felt natural. I never once saw nudity in this context as sexual. It was liberating and comfortable for me. However, as I got older, insecurities struck and I had zero body confidence. Women consistently judged me, men routinely mocked me, ironically the only place that I never felt judged was in the naked community of British Naturism. I never questioned their motivations, never thought for one second that I was being judged for the number of moles I had on my body, my lack of muscularity, the size of my penis, or sexual prowess; as far as I’m aware everyone that I’ve met since joining British Naturism has lived up to this expectation, whereas a significant number of people I’ve met and grew close to outside of the community, have let me down over and over again. Continued…Read full original article…